


The Forest

by BookshopLaura



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookshopLaura/pseuds/BookshopLaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura likes trees so Merlin likes trees too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forest

Merlin would never admit it to Arthur, but it rather enjoys a hunting trip. Not the actual hunt itself, he's never enjoyed the death of innocent animals when there is plenty of food back at the castle. But a ride through the woods, that, that is glorious. Arthur doesn't seem to appreciate it as much as Merlin.

"It's just the woods, Merlin. It's where we go to hunt, that's all!" 

But that's not all. The forest is so alive. And it's not all the same either. When they first enter the woods the trees are tall, like columns in a hall, but taller than any hall Merlin has seen. They rise up straight and solid, with trunks two feet in diameter. Some are oaks and beech, here and there some are fallen, rotting. One beech has fallen flat and now it's branches rise in great trunks like a line of new trees growing up into the light. Merlin stops his horse to point it out to Arthur, who barely glances before moaning for Merlin to concentrate. 

In the undergrowth holly is abundant, which has Merlin thinking of Yule time. In a month he'll have to come out to collect some to make into wreath. He can already see the odd red berry. The floor is already red with leaves. The crunch and snap of the leaves and branches under foot is so satisfying. But the trees aren't completely empty, some of the leaves are still green, but the holly is still a blast of colour between the brown of the trunks and the red of the leaves. 

Then the forest opens out, the trees are sparser, lower, younger. The ground covered in bracken and fern. Between the trees he can see the light blue of the sky. In summer it's a deeper blue, like looking into an abyss. And below it where the bracken now rules there was and will be a sea of bluebells. Merlin recoils at the thought of horses hooves trampling over them, leaving a trail of destruction. He always remembers to stop and bring a handful back for Gwen, who loves them. 

Merlin is startled from his reverie by a skittering sound. He halts his horse before he sees a flash of red skittering up a tree. Merlin smiles to see the cheeky face with the pointed ears. He's got an acorn in his mouth and skitters up to sit on a branch. 

"Merlin! Will you concentrate! I want to be there before sundown!" 

Merlin encourages his horse back to a trot, smiling as he rolls his eyes. 

They head deeper into the forest and the trees thicken again. They're tall and formidable. Some are pines, the floor littered with pine needles. 

They're straighter than the oaks, the smell is different, the ground more springy, cushioned. 

"Hurray up, Merlin! I really don't see what you find so interesting about a load of trees!" Moans Arthur, but even as he speaks Merlin can hear the chittering of birds in the distance, the light gurgle of stream. The floor forest isn't flat, filled with dips and gullies, and the path is criss-crossed with roots worn smooth by feet and horses hooves, and now ahead a silver birch has fallen across the track. It's in a gully itself, trees close all around, which slows the horses. 

"Are you keeping up, Merlin?" demands Arthur.

"Yes, Sire!" says Merlin sarcastically. He looks ahead. Arthur is heading into some mud, so Merlin smirks and kicks his horse lightly into a canter to follow a path that circles past it without any mud. Just as he's about to rejoin the path, there's a log in his path, but his horse hops over it quickly to land in front of Arthur. Merlin glances around to smirk at Arthur who shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Merlin turns back to face the road ahead. The sunlight throughout leaves dapples the path in skittering light in front of him. It dances across his face, and he smiles. He feels alive in the woods. Like he's a part of the landscape, tied to these woods. He knows them, he understands them. He knows where herbs and roots he knows grow. He knows the location of the Riven Oak, a great tree a metre and a half in diameter, spilt down the middle and now dead and hollowing. It feels sacred. It's not, at least not that he knows of. Arthur likes it, because there's deer in the area, but Merlin always sneaks off to visit it. Like a pilgrimage.

"Merlin, one of these days I'm going to stop bringing you hunting!" shouts Arthur.

"Don't be stupid, sire! You'd have no fun at all if you had no one to moan at!" says Merlin, glancing round to smile at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I like the woods near me, and I always thought Merlin would be a woodland kinda person. Also the riven oak is marked in an old map of Thorndon near me, but not on any newer maps... I want to find it.


End file.
